SHE POINTED AT HIS INK AND SAID, ‘MY MOM HAS THE SAME ONE.’ 10 YEARS OF SILENCE SHATTERED.” – WHAT HIDES IN THE VAN OUTSIDE?

The gravel crunched under my boots. Each step felt like a lifetime. The sun was a hammer on the back of my neck, but I didn’t feel it. All I felt was the weight of ten years. Ten years of hunting. Ten years of telling myself she was dead. Ten years of drinking myself to sleep because I couldn’t save her.

The van was maybe fifty feet away. White. Rusted. The kind of vehicle you see at a rest stop and think, someone lives in that. Someone did. Someone had been dying in it.

I heard Ray scrambling behind me. He was fumbling with his keys by the driver’s side door. Dropped them in the dust. Started cussing.

I didn’t run. I walked. Steady. The way you walk when you know exactly what you’re going to do.

Ray got the door open just as I reached him. He slid into the driver’s seat. Tried to slam the door.

My boot stopped it.

I slammed my weight into the metal. The door pinned his leg. He screamed.

— Get out.

My voice was calm. Too calm.

— Get the hell out of the van, Ray.

He looked at me with eyes the size of dinner plates. Then his hand went to his waistband.

I saw the glint of metal.

A snub-nosed .38 revolver.

He brought it up.

Bang.

The shot went wild. Tore a divot in the dirt near my left boot. The sound echoed off the mountains. A bird took flight from a telephone pole.

I didn’t flinch.

I reached in, grabbed his wrist, and twisted. The bone made a sound like a dry branch snapping. He screamed again. The gun dropped. I kicked it under a parked semi-truck.

Then I dragged him out of the van by his collar.

He hit the asphalt face-first. The gravel scraped his cheek raw.

— Please, please, I got a family—

— You got my sister in that van.

I put my boot on his chest. Applied pressure until he wheezed.

— You kept her in there for ten years. You don’t get to say please.

He tried to squirm. I pressed harder.

— You move again and I’ll crush your sternum. You’ll drown in your own blood before the ambulance gets here. Understand?

He nodded. Tears and snot mixing with the dust on his face.

I pulled a heavy zip tie from my belt. The kind we use for securing cargo on long rides. I rolled him over, yanked his hands behind his back, and cinched it tight. Then his ankles.

He was hog-tied in the dirt. Face down. Whimpering.

I left him there.

The back of the van was locked. I tried the handle. Nothing. The side door. Nothing.

I went to my bike. A custom Dyna Wide Glide. Blacked out. Loud enough to wake the dead. I popped the saddlebag and pulled out a crowbar. The same one I’d used to break into a dozen locked garages over the years. Never thought I’d use it to save my sister.

I jammed the iron into the seam of the back doors.

Heaved.

The metal groaned. Screamed. Then popped.

The doors swung open.

The smell hit me like a fist.

Stale urine. Sweat. Fear. Something sour and rotting underneath. It was the smell of a cage. The smell of someone who had given up hope.

It was dark inside. The windows covered with insulation and black plastic. A thin shaft of sunlight cut through the open doors, illuminating dust motes floating in the air.

And in the corner, chained to a D-ring bolted to the floor, was a woman.

She was curled on a dirty mattress. Emaciated. Her hair matted into clumps. Her skin pale and bruised. She wore a torn t-shirt and nothing else. Her wrists were raw. The chain was short enough that she couldn’t stand.

She flinched when the light hit her. Raised a skeletal arm to shield her face.

— Please, Ray. I didn’t make a sound. I swear. Please don’t—

Her voice was broken. Brittle. A whisper that had been used up years ago.

I climbed into the van. My knees hit the floor. I crawled toward her.

— Cassie.

She flinched harder. Curled into a ball.

— No, no, no, no—

— Cassie, it’s me. It’s Declan.

I reached out. Touched her shoulder. She was so thin I could feel every bone.

— It’s Digger. Your big brother.

She stopped shaking.

Slowly, she lowered her arm.

Her eyes were sunken. Dark circles like bruises. She blinked against the light. Stared at my face. My beard. The patch on my vest.

Then she looked at my forearm. At the stopwatch tattoo.

COM.

— Deck?

Her voice cracked.

— Deck, is that really you?

— Yeah, Cass. It’s me.

Tears were streaming down my face. I didn’t care.

— I got you. I’m gonna get you out of here.

I pulled my knife. A Benchmade automatic. Cut the zip ties binding her wrists to the chain. The plastic fell away. Her arms dropped like dead weight.

She collapsed into me.

The sob that came out of her wasn’t human. It was an animal sound. A sound of ten years of pain finally finding a door.

— He took me, Deck. He took me from the parking lot. He said he needed a ride. And then he just… he never let me go.

— I know. I know, Cass. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner.

— Lyra. Where’s Lyra?

— She’s inside. She’s safe. She saved you, Cass. She walked up to me in the diner and asked about the tattoo.

Cassidy laughed. A broken, hysterical sound.

— She’s six years old. She’s the only reason I kept breathing. Every day I looked at her and I thought, someone has to raise her. Someone has to tell her she’s more than this.

I lifted her into my arms. She weighed nothing. Maybe eighty pounds. A grown woman who should have been a hundred and forty.

I carried her out of the van.

The sun hit her face and she squeezed her eyes shut. Buried her head in my chest.

— It’s too bright.

— I know. But you’re gonna get used to it. I promise.

Sirens were wailing in the distance. Brenda the waitress had made the call. Deputy Barnes would be here soon.

I carried Cassidy to the shade of the diner’s awning. Sat her down on a wooden bench. Lyra came running out of the door.

— Mommy!

She threw her arms around Cassidy’s neck. Cassidy wrapped her arms around her daughter. They held each other like they were afraid the world would rip them apart again.

— You’re so brave, baby. You’re so brave.

— I found the giant, Mommy. Just like you said. He had the same picture.

I looked at Lyra. Then at Cassidy.

— You told her to look for me?

Cassidy nodded, tears streaming.

— I didn’t know if you were still alive. I didn’t know if you were still wearing the patch. But I told her… if she ever got out, if she ever saw a man with that stopwatch… to ask him for help.

I sat down on the bench next to them.

The sirens got closer.

Ray was still in the dirt. Hog-tied. Moaning.

Deputy Barnes pulled up in a cruiser. He stepped out, hand on his holster. His eyes went wide.

— What the hell happened here?

— That man kidnapped my sister and her daughter. Ten years ago. Check NCIC for Cassidy Ali. Missing person, Fresno, California, 2011.

Barnes looked at the van. At the chains visible through the open doors. At the woman who looked like a ghost.

He turned to Ray.

— Is that true?

Ray didn’t answer. He was too busy crying.

— Barnes, I’m gonna tell you something.

I stood up. Walked over to the deputy.

— That man had a gun. He shot at me. You’ll find the revolver under the semi. And you’ll find DNA evidence in that van that’ll put him away for the rest of his life.

Barnes looked at me. Then at my patch.

— Why should I trust a Hell’s Angel?

— Because you’re a good cop. And good cops know the difference between a monster and a man trying to save his family.

Barnes stared at me for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

— Paramedics are two minutes out. Don’t go anywhere.

— I’m not going anywhere.

He cuffed Ray. Read him his rights. Ray kept crying. Begging. Saying it wasn’t his fault. He was just following orders.

I wanted to break his other wrist.

I didn’t.

Cassidy needed me whole. Not in a cell.

The paramedics arrived. They loaded Cassidy and Lyra into the ambulance. Cassidy refused to let go of Lyra’s hand.

I climbed in after them.

— Sir, you can’t—

— Try and stop me.

The paramedic looked at Barnes. Barnes nodded.

— Let him go.

The ambulance doors closed. The siren started.

We drove to Kingman Regional Medical Center.

Kingman Regional Medical Center – 3:00 PM

The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and fear.

I sat in a plastic chair. My hands were shaking. Not from adrenaline. From the weight of what I’d just seen. The van. The chains. The way Cassidy flinched when a nurse touched her.

Ten years.

Ten years of her living in a metal box while I rode across the country looking for her. Ten years of me drinking whiskey and telling myself she was probably dead. Probably better off.

She wasn’t better off.

She was a skeleton with a pulse.

A doctor came out. Middle-aged. Kind eyes. Tired.

— Mr. Ali?

I stood up.

— How is she?

— Your sister is severely malnourished. Dehydrated. She has multiple healed fractures — ribs, a collarbone, her left wrist. We’re seeing signs of repeated blunt force trauma. Psychologically… she’s going to need a lot of help.

— And my niece?

— Lyra is in remarkable shape. A little underweight, some bruising, but resilient. Children are… they’re stronger than we give them credit for.

— When can I see them?

— Cassidy is resting now. We’ve sedated her. She hasn’t slept in a bed in a long time. Lyra is in the room next to her. You can sit with her if you’d like.

— I’d like.

The doctor led me down a hallway. Two deputies stood outside the door. One of them was Barnes.

— Ali. The FBI is on their way from Phoenix. They’re going to want to talk to you.

— They can talk to me here.

— Fair enough.

I walked into Lyra’s room.

She was sitting up in bed. A pink hospital gown. Her stuffed rabbit — the one with the missing ear — was tucked under her arm. A nurse had cleaned it up a little.

— Uncle Deck?

She said it like she’d been saying it her whole life.

— Hey, squirt.

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

— How are you feeling?

— The lady gave me ice cream. It’s vanilla.

— Vanilla’s the best.

— Mommy says chocolate is better.

— Your mom is wrong.

Lyra giggled. A small sound. But a real one.

— Uncle Deck?

— Yeah?

— Are we safe now?

I looked at the door. At the deputies outside. At the window where the sun was starting to set.

— For now, yeah. We’re safe for now.

— Daddy Ray is a bad man.

— I know, sweetheart.

— He hurt Mommy. He said if she screamed, he’d hurt me too. So she didn’t scream. Not ever.

My jaw tightened.

— That was very brave of her.

— She said you would come. She said her brother was a giant who rode a loud motorcycle and he would find us someday.

I reached out and touched Lyra’s hand.

— I’m sorry it took so long.

— That’s okay. You’re here now.

She yawned. The ice cream and the exhaustion catching up with her.

— Can I sleep?

— Yeah. You can sleep. I’ll be right here.

She curled up on her side. Clutched the rabbit to her chest.

— Will you stay?

— I’m not going anywhere.

— Promise?

— I promise.

She closed her eyes.

I sat there for a long time. Watching her breathe. Watching the rise and fall of her small chest.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. The screen said Big Al.

I stepped into the hallway.

— Digger. Where the hell are you?

— Kingman Hospital.

— The prospect said you went off on some personal mission. What’s going on?

— I found her, Al.

Silence on the other end.

— I found Cassidy.

— Holy sh*t.

— She’s alive. Barely. Some piece of trash kept her in a van for ten years. He’s in custody. But the cops are here. FBI is coming.

— You need backup.

— I need eyes. If this guy had partners — and he did, Al, he was scared of someone — they might come looking to tie up loose ends.

— I’ll send Crowbar and Tiny. They’re on the Bullhead City run. Can be there in an hour.

— Thanks, brother.

— You found her, Digger. That’s… that’s good work.

— It’s not over.

— It’s never over. But tonight, you sleep. We’ll handle the rest.

He hung up.

I walked back to Lyra’s room. Sat down in the chair next to the bed.

The sun set over Kingman. The sky turned purple and orange.

I didn’t sleep.

I watched the door.

6:00 PM – The Elevator

The elevator dinged.

I looked up. My hand drifted toward the knife in my boot.

The doors opened.

A man stepped out. Sharp gray suit. Expensive shoes. Carrying a leather briefcase. He had the kind of face that smiled too easily. The kind of smile that never reached his eyes.

He walked straight to the deputies.

— Gentlemen. My name is Leonard Graves. I represent Mr. Raymond Miller.

Barnes stiffened.

— Miller is in custody. He’s not getting a phone call.

— I’m not here for a phone call. I’m here on behalf of his parental rights.

I stood up.

— What did you say?

Graves looked at me like I was a stain on his shoe.

— And you must be Mr. Ali. The… associate of the motorcycle club.

— I’m her brother.

— Yes, well. Your sister is irrelevant at the moment. I have a court order here signed by Judge Sterling in Phoenix. It grants temporary custody of the minor child, Lyra Miller, to her father, Raymond Miller.

He pulled a document from his briefcase.

Barnes took it. Read it.

— This… this was filed this morning.

— Justice moves quickly when a child’s welfare is at stake.

— The father is in jail for kidnapping.

— Alleged kidnapping. My client maintains that he and Ms. Ali were in a domestic relationship. The child is his. He has rights.

I stepped between Graves and the door to Lyra’s room.

— You’re not taking that girl anywhere.

— Mr. Ali, if you interfere with a court order, I will have you arrested. You are a convicted felon, are you not? The Berdoo charter has a… colorful history with the California penal system.

— I don’t care if you have a judge in your pocket. That man chained my sister to a floor for ten years. That little girl was kept in a van. You’re not putting her back in his hands.

Graves smiled.

— Emotion is not a legal argument, Mr. Ali. Deputy, please remove this man.

Barnes looked at the paper. Looked at me.

— It looks legal, Digger. I have to enforce it.

— You’re going to give that kid back to the people who caged her?

— I’m following the law.

— The law can go to hell.

I stood my ground.

Graves reached for the door handle.

Ding.

The elevator opened again.

But this time, it didn’t close.

Out stepped Big Al. Six-foot-five. Three hundred pounds. A gray beard that made him look like a Viking who had retired to run a barbecue joint.

Behind him came Crowbar. Wiry. Fast. A long braided beard and eyes that missed nothing.

Then Tiny. A mountain of a man with a neck tattoo of a guillotine and hands the size of dinner plates.

Then Dutch. Then Skidmark. Then six other members of the Berdoo charter.

They filled the hallway. Leather. Denim. The smell of gasoline and tobacco.

The deputies stepped back.

Big Al looked at Graves.

— Problem, officer?

— This… this is a hospital. You can’t be here.

— Visiting hours. We’re family.

Big Al walked over to me.

— Digger. Who’s the suit?

— Says he’s here to take Lyra. Has a court order.

Big Al took the paper from Barnes’s hand. Read it. Then slowly, deliberately, he tore it in half.

Then in quarters.

Then he let the pieces fall to the floor.

— Oops. Clumsy hands.

Graves went red.

— You just destroyed a court order. I’ll have you arrested.

— For what? Littering? Write me a ticket.

Big Al leaned in close. Close enough that Graves could smell the cigar smoke on his breath.

— Now, I suggest you walk away. Because if you try to take that little girl, you’re going to find out why they call us Hell’s Angels.

Graves looked at me. At the wall of bikers behind me. At the two deputies who were suddenly very interested in their shoes.

— This isn’t over.

— Yeah, it is.

Graves turned. Walked to the elevator. Didn’t look back.

The doors closed.

Big Al clapped me on the shoulder.

— We need to talk.

7:30 PM – The Hospital Chapel

The chapel was small. Quiet. A few rows of wooden pews. A stained-glass window of Jesus holding a lamb.

Not exactly my usual habitat.

Big Al sat next to me. Crowbar leaned against the wall. Tiny stood by the door.

— The lawyer’s gonna be back, Al. With more cops.

— Probably. But we bought some time.

— Time for what?

— Time to figure out where to go.

I rubbed my face.

— I can’t leave her, Al. I just found her.

— I know. I’m not asking you to. But this hospital isn’t safe. If Miller had partners — and I’ve got a feeling he did — they’re gonna want to clean up loose ends.

— He mentioned a delivery. Before the cops took him, he was rambling. Said something about “the boss will kill us both.”

— Trafficking?

— Looks like it. He wasn’t just a boyfriend. He was moving her. A mule. She was the cargo.

Big Al was quiet for a long moment.

— That’s a bigger problem than a local sheriff can handle.

— That’s why I need to get them out of here.

— Where?

— I’ve got a spot. An old mechanic shop outside of town. The boneyard. We used it for storage back in the 90s. It’s off the grid. No address. The cartel won’t find it.

— And when they do?

— Then we fight.

Big Al nodded.

— I’ll make some calls. The Nomads have friends in Arizona. We can get more bodies out here by morning.

— Thanks, Al.

— Don’t thank me yet. This is gonna get ugly before it gets clean.

He stood up.

— I’m gonna go make those calls. Crowbar, you stay with Digger. Tiny, check the perimeter. I don’t like the look of the parking lot.

They left.

I sat alone in the chapel.

The stained-glass Jesus stared at me.

I wasn’t a praying man. Hadn’t been since I was a kid. But I closed my eyes anyway.

If you’re up there… let me get her out of this. Let me keep her safe. I don’t care what happens to me after that.

The door opened.

Cassidy stood there. In a hospital gown. An IV still taped to her arm. She looked like a strong wind would knock her over.

— Cass. You shouldn’t be up.

— I heard shouting.

— It’s nothing. Just a lawyer.

— A lawyer for Ray?

I didn’t answer.

— Deck. I’m not stupid. I know he has people. He always had people. That’s how he kept me so long. Every time I thought about running, he had someone watching.

I stood up. Walked over to her.

— I’m getting you out of here tonight.

— Where?

— A safe place. Somewhere no one will find you.

She looked at me. Her eyes were hollow but sharp.

— What about Lyra?

— She comes with us.

— And you?

— I’m not leaving you.

She started to cry. Silent tears rolling down her gaunt cheeks.

— I dreamed about this. Every night for ten years. I dreamed that you came. On your motorcycle. And you killed him and took us away.

— I wanted to kill him, Cass. I wanted to break his neck right there in the dirt.

— Why didn’t you?

— Because you needed me here. Not in a cell.

She reached out and touched my face.

— You’ve gotten old, Deck.

— So have you.

— I feel a hundred.

— You’re gonna feel better. I promise.

We stood there for a moment. Brother and sister. Ten years of distance collapsing into a single embrace.

She was so thin. So fragile.

But she was alive.

10:00 PM – The Escape

The hallway was quiet.

The night shift had taken over. Fewer nurses. Fewer people asking questions.

Barnes was still there. Sitting in a chair outside Cassidy’s room. He’d brought coffee. Looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

— Barnes.

He looked up.

— Ali.

— I’m moving them.

— The doctor said she needs another 24 hours for fluids.

— She doesn’t have 24 hours.

Barnes stood up.

— What do you know that I don’t?

— The lawyer. Graves. He got that court order fast. Too fast. Someone in Phoenix pulled strings. That means someone high up wants that kid.

— Or wants to shut your sister up.

— Yeah.

Barnes looked down the hall. At the elevator. At the stairwell.

— I’m supposed to protect them.

— You can’t protect them from what’s coming. No offense, Deputy. You’re a good cop. But you’re one guy. The people Ray worked for… they have resources.

— And you don’t?

— I have fifty guys with guns and nothing to lose.

Barnes was quiet for a long time.

— If I let you take them, I’m breaking the law.

— If you don’t, they’ll be dead by morning.

He looked at me. Really looked at me.

— My wife is pregnant. Due in March.

— Congratulations.

— I want to be alive to see it.

— Then look the other way for ten minutes.

Barnes sighed. Rubbed his face.

— The cameras on this floor go down for maintenance at 10:15. They come back up at 10:25.

— That’s specific.

— I used to work hospital security before the academy.

I nodded.

— Thank you, Barnes.

— Don’t thank me. Just get them somewhere safe.

He walked away. Down the hall. Turned the corner and disappeared.

I went into Cassidy’s room.

She was awake. Sitting up. Lyra was in the bed next to her, sleeping.

— Time to go.

— Now?

— Now.

I helped Cassidy stand. She was wobbly. I put my arm around her waist and took most of her weight.

— I can walk.

— No, you can’t. But I appreciate the attitude.

I scooped Lyra up with my other arm. She stirred but didn’t wake. Clutched her rabbit.

We moved into the hallway.

Crowbar was waiting by the stairwell.

— Ambulance bay. Van’s waiting.

— Cops?

— Barnes pulled the lobby guard. We’ve got a five-minute window.

We went down the stairs. Slow. Careful. Cassidy’s bare feet on the concrete steps. Her breath coming in short gasps.

— Almost there, Cass. Almost there.

We hit the ground floor. Pushed through the fire exit door.

The alarm didn’t go off. Barnes had thought of everything.

The night air was cool. The parking lot was dark.

A white panel van was idling near the ambulance bay. No markings. Dark windows.

Tiny was behind the wheel.

I helped Cassidy into the back. Laid Lyra on a mattress we’d put down. Covered her with a blanket.

Then I climbed in next to them.

— Go.

Tiny hit the gas.

The van pulled out of the hospital parking lot. Turned onto the highway. The lights of Kingman faded in the rearview mirror.

Cassidy was shaking.

— Where are we going?

— The boneyard. It’s an old mechanic shop. About an hour from here.

— Is it safe?

— Safe enough.

— Deck…

— Yeah?

— There’s something I didn’t tell you. About Ray.

I looked at her.

— What?

— He stole something. From the people he worked for. A flash drive. He said it was insurance. Said if anything happened to him, the cartel would tear the world apart looking for it.

— What’s on the drive?

— Everything. Names. Bank accounts. Recordings of meetings. He was paranoid. He recorded everything.

— Where is it?

— I don’t know. He hid it. But he used to talk about it. He said… he said it was somewhere no one would think to look.

— Any idea what that means?

Cassidy shook her head.

— He never told me. He just said if anyone touched him, the drive would go public. That’s why they kept me alive. They thought I knew where it was.

— Do you?

— No. But Lyra might.

I looked at the little girl. Sleeping peacefully. Her rabbit tucked under her chin.

— She’s six, Cass.

— She was there for everything. Ray didn’t hide things from her. He thought she was too young to understand.

— We’ll talk to her when she wakes up.

The van rumbled down the dark highway.

I looked out the window. The desert stretched out in every direction. Endless. Empty.

Somewhere out there, people were looking for us.

And they wouldn’t stop until they found us.

11:30 PM – The Boneyard

The boneyard was exactly what it sounded like.

An old mechanic shop at the end of a dirt road. Surrounded by rusted car bodies. Mountains in the distance. No neighbors for miles.

Tiny pulled the van inside the main garage. The door rolled down behind us.

The space was lit by fluorescent lights that buzzed and flickered. Toolboxes against the walls. A lift in the center. The smell of oil and old rubber.

Big Al was already there. So was Crowbar. And Dutch, with a bandage on his arm from the crash.

— This is it?

— This is it.

— Cozy.

I helped Cassidy out of the van. She looked around. Her eyes wide.

— How long do we stay?

— As long as it takes.

I led her to a small room in the back. An old office. I’d cleaned it up earlier. Put a bed in there. Some blankets. A space heater.

— It’s not much.

— It’s more than I’ve had in ten years.

She sat down on the bed. Lyra was still asleep in her arms.

— Deck?

— Yeah?

— Thank you.

— Don’t thank me yet.

I closed the door.

Out in the garage, the guys were setting up. Unloading gear. Rifles. Ammo. Radios.

Big Al walked over to me.

— I made the calls. We’ve got twenty more guys coming by sunrise. The Nomads are sending a crew from Phoenix.

— And the cartel?

— No sign yet. But they’ll find us. They always do.

— Then we need to find that drive before they do.

— What drive?

I told him what Cassidy had said.

Big Al whistled.

— That’s a game-changer. If we get that drive and turn it over to the feds, the whole network goes down.

— Or we use it as leverage.

— Leverage for what?

— For our lives. For theirs. A clean slate.

— You think Moretti is gonna give you a clean slate?

— I think he’ll listen if we have something he wants.

Big Al rubbed his beard.

— That’s a dangerous game, Digger.

— I’m not afraid of dangerous.

— No. You never were.

He walked away.

I went to check on Cassidy.

She was sitting on the bed. Lyra was awake now. Rubbing her eyes.

— Uncle Deck?

— Hey, squirt.

— Where are we?

— A safe place. You and your mom are gonna stay here for a little while.

— Is Daddy Ray coming?

— No. Daddy Ray is never coming back.

She seemed to accept that.

— Uncle Deck?

— Yeah?

— Mr. Bun Bun has a secret.

I froze.

— What kind of secret?

— Daddy Ray said I have to take good care of him. He said Mr. Bun Bun has a heavy tummy because he ate too many carrots.

— Can I see Mr. Bun Bun?

Lyra handed me the rabbit.

I held it. Felt the weight.

It was unbalanced. Too heavy in the torso.

I looked at Cassidy.

She was staring at the rabbit. Her face pale.

— Oh my God.

I pulled my knife. Cut the stitching on the rabbit’s belly. Reached inside.

My fingers brushed against hard plastic.

I pulled out a waterproof military-grade flash drive. Wrapped in electrical tape.

— Bingo.

Cassidy started crying.

— He kept it in Lyra’s toy. All along.

— He knew no one would take a stuffed rabbit from a little girl.

I held the drive in my palm.

This was it. The key to everything.

I went back out to the garage.

Big Al was looking at a map.

— Al. I need a laptop.

— There’s one in the office. Why?

I held up the drive.

— Because I just found the insurance policy.

1:00 AM – The Laptop

The screen glowed in the dark.

I plugged in the drive. A folder appeared.

Encrypted.

Password required.

— Cass.

She came into the room. Leaning on the doorframe.

— What’s the password?

— I don’t know. Ray never told me.

— Think. Any idea?

— He used to say… he used to say it was something simple. Something only he would know.

— Try his birthday.

She typed it in.

Denied.

— His mother’s maiden name.

Denied.

— The name of his first dog.

Denied.

Three attempts. Three failures.

I sat back.

— Lyra.

The little girl looked up from the bed.

— Yeah?